


My Champion

by justalowlytrashcan



Series: Rock Star AU [1]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Depends on what fits the idea best, F/M, M/M, Rating May Change, Rock Star Bitty, nhl jack
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2017-04-21
Packaged: 2018-09-22 05:05:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9584753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justalowlytrashcan/pseuds/justalowlytrashcan
Summary: Jack Zimmermann, captain of the Providence Falconers, just wants to skate off some excess energy. Instead, he finds himself face to face with Eric Bittle, guitarist for the world famous hard rock band, the Baffled Kings.Jack didn't realize he had a thing for tattoos and big brown eyes. Bittle totally realized he had a thing for tall, dark, and handsome.But being famous is hard. Especially when you're both in the spotlight.





	1. Chapter 1

Jack just wanted to go skate until he couldn’t feel his legs anymore. The Falconers had lost in overtime to the Kings after a terrible two week roadie. 3-3. Not good enough. Not even remotely. The rest of the guys felt the same. The mood on the flight had been subdued to say the least. Even Alexei Mashkov, resident ball of energy and joy, was quiet. 

He was the captain. It was his job to fix this. But not tonight. Tonight he needed to skate, to clear his head alone on the ice. Make himself feel that burn so he could forget the three game changing penalties he'd given up and the fact that he hadn’t scored a single goal the entire trip.

He was off his game. And Jack Zimmermann was not going to accept that. He was going to fix it.

So, Jack was going to skate. The arena was booked for a concert. It had been booked solid with events for two weeks while they were gone. Tonight was the last one though if he remembered his memorized schedule correctly. Which, of course he did. Jack was meticulous. The guys both loved and hated that about him.

But, that meant the main arena was off limits, not that he would have gone there anyways even if it was available. The arena staff wasn’t on call. He would have had to track people down and he knew from personal experience that people were not always happy to come in on days off and do a lot of extra work just so he could tear up the ice a bit. 

The practice rink however, well. . .that was a different story. It was early enough in the evening that the staff would likely still be there. And they never minded when one of the Falconers showed up for extra practice. They were used to it. There weren’t any events or amateur teams using the facility this week either. Jack memorized that too.

The captain announced their final descent and Jack set to work packing up his backpack. Snowy was snoring beside him. The goalie always sat by Jack on flights after tough games and trips because Jack was quiet and Snowy could sleep easier beside him. It was a coveted spot of any teammate seeking sleep or solitude truthfully. Jack nudged Snowy and the goalie awoke with a snort and a jolt. He looked wrecked. 

It’d been a rough two weeks. 

Jack would have been lying if he’d said he wasn’t tired, but there a nervous energy racing up and down his spine and sparking throughout his body. He could barely keep his knee still as they landed and taxied. He just wanted to get on the ice and clear his head so he could go home and get a good night’s sleep in his own home, his own bed, without Alexei waking him up every time he stumbled and crashed into the bathroom (at least twice every single night) to go pee in the middle of the night. But first, he had one last captain-y duty. 

He stood and the guys all faced him. Most of them looked pretty worn, but there were still some smiles. That was good to see. Morale hadn’t completely bottomed out. “Alright guys, go home, relax, get some rest. I want everyone to schedule some time with Justin this week. We’re coming up on playoffs and I don’t want any niggling pains to become full blown injuries. See you all on Monday.”

There was murmured assent from the team as they all gathered their gear and shuffled off the plane. Jack was last off the plane. He was always last. 

Alexei was waiting for him by his car, leaning against the passenger door, waiting for Jack to unlock the luxury sedan. They always carpooled since Alexei lived in the same building as Jack. He caught his captain’s eye and cocked an eyebrow. “You plan on skating,” he stated, his disapproval clear, even through the thick Russian accent. 

Jack shrugged and unlocked his car. He tossed his bag in the back and Alexei followed his lead. “I need to clear my head. It’s fine, Tater. I won’t go too hard.”

“You always go too hard. You’re Jack Zimmermann. King of Too Hard.” Alexei smiled slightly, his brown eyes sparkling with sudden mischief. “Actually, that is Kenny. Kenny is King of Hard.” Alexei winked. 

Jack groaned and rolled his eyes. “I don’t need or want to hear about your love life, Tater. Please keep those details to yourself.”

Alexei buckled his seatbelt and leaned back. “I’m come with you then. Keep you from doing too much. We need our captain for playoffs.” He crossed his arms and kicked out his long legs, his body language making it clear that he wasn’t going to listen to any argument from Jack that might say otherwise. 

Jack wanted to be alone. That was the point. He needed to clear his head and the best way for him to do that was to skate hard. Alone. In the quiet where it would be just him and the sound of metal blades cutting across ice that had always been a comfort. The problem was that Alexei was a stubborn guy. Not to mention, he was bigger so Jack couldn’t actually force him to do anything. Ever. He'd learned that the hard way. Alexei had a tendency to go "boneless" so he couldn't be physically forced away when he didn't want to leave. Jack was strong but even he couldn't hoist 225 pounds of dead weight.

Truthfully, the only time Alexei ever listened to him was when they were on the ice. If he forced the Russian home now, Alexei would probably tell Kent that Jack was pushing himself too hard again. Kent would then call his parents, and even though Jack was a grown man of 30, he was still kind of afraid of his maman. Alicia Zimmermann was a total mother bear when she wanted to be. Even Jack’s dad was kind of afraid to cross her when it came to Jack, and Bad Bob Zimmermann, who had definitely earned that moniker on the ice, wasn’t exactly a slouch in the fiercely protective department. So Jack caved.

The pair didn’t chat much as Jack drove. Alexei focused on his phone mainly, likely talking to his secret (only to the world, the team already knew) boyfriend.

When they pulled up to the practice rink, Jack frowned. There were an awful lot of cars and a massive black bus with extremely dark windows.

“Did George forget to tell me that we’d rented the rink out for something?”

Alexei shrugged. “I don’t think so? There is just the big concert tonight at arena.” 

Jack frowned but he grabbed his gear and headed in with Alexei on his heels. If he had to wait for the ice, he supposed that’d have to be fine. 

The soft strains of pop music made both men pause. Jack thought he recognized the singer but he couldn’t be sure.

They were stopped by two unsmiling men in black t-shirts that made even Alexei look small. 

“Sorry guys. No one’s allowed in. Go on home.”

Jack and Alexei looked at each other and blinked. “We’re here to skate. This is our practice rink. Is there a reason we aren’t allowed to skate in our own practice rink?”

“This is the practice rink of the Falconers,” the smaller man condescended, clearly not recognizing the two men standing before him, despite the fact that directly above Jack and Alexei were posters of their faces, advertising that this was in fact the rink that the Falconers practiced at. He looked unimpressed. 

“Yes. Our rink,” Alexei said. “We play for Falconers. Alexei Mashkov and Jack Zimmermann.”

Alexei pointed upwards.

The bigger of the two men eyed them for a moment and then looked up. His eyes widened slightly. “Holy shit, you really are Jack Zimmermann. Oh, man, sorry. We were told the team was out of town.”

Jack nodded. “Just got back. Do you mind if we go through then?”

The two guys looked at each other and the small one checked his watch. “He should almost be done since we’ve gotta be to the show soon.”

The big one agreed. “Yeah. Do you mind showing us some ID first, guys? Sorry. It's part of the job description. We gotta do it," he shrugged as Jack glared. He was standing under a giant poster of his face. And the big guy had already recognized him. Did they really need more confirmation? But Alexei didn't seem bothered as he produced his license, so Jack did the same with a bit of an annoyed huff. 

The guys glanced over the IDs quickly and handed them back. "Thanks. Go on through guys. Sorry for the hold up.”

Jack and Alexei nodded and moved past the two door guards into the actual rink. The music was louder inside. 

“Who do you think it is?” Alexei questioned, his eyes wide and excited. “They must be famous for security. Maybe movie star?”

Jack shrugged again. He silently agreed with Alexei’s assessment though. Whoever it was had to be pretty famous if they needed security keeping people out. Based on the pop music blasting through the speakers at the moment, Jack expected someone young, or maybe multiple young someones. Or maybe it was a famous couple, looking for some fun out of the public eye, since this was the only semi-private rink, besides the arena, in the area.

However, whatever Jack was expecting was definitely not what he found. 

Jack nearly dropped his bag when he came into the rink and saw a small, blonde man in relatively tight grey sweats and a black t-shirt on the ice skating to the music with fluid and swift motions. The skater leapt, spun, and landed perfectly, all in time with the music. A woman with dark purple hair and an undercut was sitting in the player's bench nearest them. She clapped, smiling ever so slightly. 

The skater jumped again. Jack was mesmerized. It was stunning. 

The man finished with a spinning flourish as the music stopped and Alexei burst into applause, startling Jack, the man on the ice, and the woman in the bench. 

“Oh Lord, I’m sorry. We thought we had the place to ourselves,” the man said as he skated with ease towards the door to the ice. He had a thick Southern accent. 

Jack’s stomach did a sort of flip flop when the man stopped in front of him, still on the ice, holding the door open. He was small, well, smaller than Jack and Tater (not a difficult feat truthfully) with golden blonde hair that was clearly cut and styled professionally based on the way it shone in the rink lights. His eyes were brown. Like the color of pure, sinful maple syrup. And _Crisse_ , they were big. _Is he a Disney character?_ Jack felt a very physical reaction to those eyes. They were so beautiful. 

But what was most shocking, and just, _unfairly attractive_ , was the sleeve of tattoos down his right arm. Jack didn’t realize he had a thing for tattoos until that moment. The colors were vibrant and the designs were amazing. It must have cost a great deal for that kind of artistry and precision. Jack tried to take in all of the designs without staring too obviously. _Wait, is that a hockey puck? A pie, maybe? Blossoms?_

“We can go if you need the ice,” the gorgeous blonde said, sounding somewhat unsure. Jack realized no one else had actually said anything yet. He’d just been staring. 

“Oh, uh, no. It’s fine. If you’ve made arrangements then you can stay I guess,” Jack said, feeling decidedly uncomfortable with his feelings at the moment. And he had to admit, he was a bit upset and disappointed. He wanted to skate, work through some of his thoughts, and go home. He wasn’t terribly happy those plans had been derailed. Even if the reason seemed nice and unfairly pretty. 

Hot blonde’s eyebrow rose slightly. “George said no one would be here until tomorrow.”

Jack shrugged. “Yeah, we got back tonight but I wanted to get a little practice in.”

“Practice? Didn’t y’all just come from a game in LA?” _Wait. This guy's a hockey fan? Oh no._

Alexei, who’d been remarkably silent so far, squeaked. An actual squeak. Like the sound a small bird would make. “Alexei,” Jack began. The bigger man was practically vibrating. He looked like he may faint.

“You are Eric Bittle.”

The blonde, apparently named Eric, suddenly smiled. _God, his smile is like looking directly into the sun. How can anyone look that bright and warm from just a smile? _Eric held out a hand. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Mashkov.”__

“You know my name!” Alexei squealed and bounced up and down. 

Jack had never been more confused in his life. 

Eric laughed. “Of course. Can’t play college hockey and not know Alexei Mashkov and Jack Zimmermann. Pleasure to meet y’all by the way.” 

_College hockey? This guy?_ Jack opened his mouth to say as much, but thankfully, Alexei spoke first and derailed what would have likely been an insulting comment. _Get it together, Jack. Crisse._

“Can I have picture?” Alexei rushed. 

Eric laughed. “Sure, sweetheart." 

“Kenny will be so jealous. He dress like you last Halloween. He always says he love me but he leave me if you ask." 

“Alexei,” Jack hissed. He’d just outed himself to this random figure skating stranger. Alexei didn’t even realize or notice. Surprisingly, neither the woman or Eric seemed fazed by this announcement which Jack counted as a small victory. Although, the woman still sitting in the bench within earshot had a perfectly blank face. _She should meet Shitty. She’d wipe the floor with him during our occasional poker games. Shits would love it._

Eric’s laugh was bright and musical and Jack would be lying if he said it didn’t do something to his insides. “Of course, sweetheart. I’d love to take a picture with you.” 

Alexei shoved his phone into Jack’s hand. The large man wrapped a light arm around Eric’s shoulder, and Eric wrapped his arm around Alexei’s waist. Jack snapped a few photos. He supposed he couldn’t really be surprised that Eric was amazingly photogenic. _He’d be an amazing subject to photograph._ Jack flushed, realizing what he’d thought before handing the phone back to Alexei. Alexei sent the photos to Kent immediately. 

“So you’re clearly a fan,” Eric said to Alexei. “Will I see you at the concert tonight?” 

Alexei shook his head sadly. “No tickets. They sell out before I could get one. Not even Falconers can get me tickets.” 

Eric turned and waved to the woman who, to Jack’s surprise, was even smaller than Eric. “Lardo, can we help Mr. Mashkov and Mr. Zimmermann out?" 

_Lardo? That can't really be her real name, right?_

“Oh, uh, I don’t, since I don’t know you, you don’t have to do that. I don’t need tickets?” Jack fumbled. 

Eric tilted his head, his big brown eyes narrowed slightly like he seemed to be trying to figure Jack out. Jack just blinked, his face stoic despite his internal panic. It was his media face. He used it when he was nervous. 

“Well, I can’t very well give Mr. Mashkov some and not you. My mother would have my hide if she heard I hadn’t offered you tickets too.” 

“Uh, thanks.” 

“Don’t worry. Zimmboni will be fan before the end. I make sure,” Alexei smiled and slapped him on the back. 

“Zimmboni?” Eric fought a smile. 

“He’s the only one who calls me that. Everyone else just calls me Jack.” 

“Is because everything thinks captain is too serious and intense, but I am changing this,” Alexei assured the small blonde. “And you can call me Tater. Is like little potato. Get it?” 

Eric laughed and smiled. “I get it. It’s cute.” 

“Like little potato!” Alexei crowed happily, making Eric laugh again. 

However, Eric’s face tensed a bit when he turned back to Jack. “Don’t feel obligated to come now, Mr. Zimmermann.” 

Jack opened his mouth to maybe try to explain that he would love to come, it was just that he didn’t really know who Eric was, and he was just really tired and Eric had thrown off his plans a bit and for Jack, his schedule kept him sane, but Eric wasn’t looking at him anymore. 

God, he hated how hard social interaction was for him sometimes. 

“Lards?” Eric turned back to the woman. 

Lardo’s face was stern but a slight crease at the corner of her eyes signalled what Jack thought was probably approval. “I think we can manage that. You boys mind if we take some photos for our social media at the concert?” she asked Jack, her dark eyes held his. 

Jack blinked, surprised she was addressing him and not Alexei. “Uh, probably not. I should probably call our PR team first though, see if they have any worries.” 

Lardo nodded. From her bag she produced four passes. “You need more? I have 8 passes on me right now. But I figure a guest apiece works for you guys, yeah?” 

Alexei looked like he’d just won the Stanley Cup again. “Yes! Works great!” He turned to Jack. “Kenny is going to be very mad. Don’t care.” 

“Uh, thanks.” Jack accepted the pass awkwardly. 

Eric laughed. “Oh Lord. You really don’t know who I am, do you, honey?” 

Jack bit his lip and flushed a bit, before looking at his shoes, embarrassed. Clearly Eric was famous but Jack had no clue. Except, Jack now knew that Eric was a musician of some kind. “Sorry." 

“That’s fine. It’s kind of refreshing actually.” 

Jack understood that. 

Lardo’s phone went off and even from where he stood, he could hear frantic voices as Lardo answered. Her face suddenly turned downright murderous. “He did what? No. You know Chowder has a superstition about that! If Chowder’s performance suffers tonight, I’ll have his fucking head. Tell him to fucking fix it before Chowder gets to the venue.” There was a pause and the shouting at the other end grew more frantic. “Well then distract him! Ask him about sharks. Talk about the new computer he just built. Bring up Cait! Anything!” 

Eric’s face had darkened, and Jack found that he couldn’t look away. He’d been all bright sunshine and beauty and now he looked cold and intense. It was the kind of face Jack himself made before he skated into a face off. On Eric, it was an intriguing and strangely appealing contrast. Eric Bittle was clearly an interesting person and Jack had to admit, he was drawn in a bit. 

Lardo ended the call and huffed. “We need to get back to the venue.” 

“What happened?” Eric asked. 

“One of the new crew members, Chad, changed the strings on Chow’s bass for the show.” Lardo looked ready to murder this Chad guy, and even though Jack dwarfed her, he was kind of intimidated by the heat in her dark eyes. He took a slight step back. 

Eric exhaled nervously, and even Alexei gasped. 

“Oh, he’s going to lose it if he finds out. I’ll call him, try and distract him.” Eric pulled out his phone. 

“Holster has apparently got him trapped.” Lardo scoffed at a message she’d received. “But Dex thinks we should get back.” 

Eric agreed before turning back to Jack and Alexei. “Nice to meet y’all. See you at the show. Thanks for letting me use the ice.” He smiled at Jack and Jack swore he felt the world tip. _Oh no. No. This is. . .this is not good._

Lardo just nodded and Jack just sort of nodded back. _I like her._

The pair then hurried away, leaving the two massive hockey players standing awkwardly in their wake. Alexei was smiling so hard that it made Jack’s face hurt. 

“Who exactly was that?” Jack finally asked, once he was certain they were out of earshot. 

Alexei looked affronted but he handed Jack two of the passes that Lardo had handed him. The Baffled Kings? So they were a band. A band which Eric Bittle was a part of. Eric didn’t exactly seem like the kind of guy who’d be in a band. But honestly, Jack didn’t know a lot of musicians so he couldn’t tell you what the stereotypical musician was supposed to be. 

“The Baffled Kings?" 

Alexei nodded. “Yes. You know song, Edge of Resistance? I played on repeat for month?” 

_Oh._ Jack nodded, understanding dawning. That was the Baffled Kings? But they played rock. Hard, intense rock. 

Wait. The gorgeous blonde Eric was a legit rock star? 

Alexei’s phone started to buzz and he laughed as he answered. Jack heard Kent’s shout of “ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME RIGHT NOW??? YOU FUCKING MET ERIC BITTLE???” 

Alexei laughed. “I did. He is very nice. He give me and Zimmboni backstage passes for show tonight.” 

Jack didn’t hear what Kent said next but judging by the high pitched strangled noise Jack did hear, it definitely wasn’t a declaration of love for his boyfriend. 

Jack stared down at the pass. He’d just really wanted to skate, but there was no way Alexei would let him out of this. At least it was backstage. Backstage was good, right? No crowds or anything like that. It would be more secluded. 

He pulled out his phone and texted his best friend. Maybe Shitty would come. No doubt Alexei would call Snowy, so Jack figured he could bring his best friend too. 

JZ: Hey. Are you busy tonight? 

SK: Fuck no. You home??? BRO CUDDLES??? 

JZ: I’m at the practice rink right now. I’m headed home soon. 

SK: Jesus Christ, Zimmermann. You work harder than God. 

SK: But what’s up? Everything alright? 

JZ: Yeah. 

JZ: Do you want to go to a concert? 

SK: ??? 

JZ: I have an extra backstage pass to the Baffled Kings. Interested? 

SK: YOU MAJESTIC MOTHERFUCKER! YES! I LOVE THEM! 

JZ: Am I the only person who doesn’t know who they are? 

Alexei reappeared at his side and Jack sighed and resigned himself to no ice time tonight. Alexei was too excited. Just like Jack had predicted, the big Russian was already on the phone with Snowy, planning his outfit. 

JZ: I’ll pick you up in an hour and a half. Okay? 

SK: See you then, you gorgeous Canadian moose. 

Jack sent a text to George before they left the rink to let her know about the concert. She thought it was a great idea so that was that. If George had no problem with it, then it was okay. 

As Jack drove Alexei home, he listened to his teammate describe the band in just extraordinary detail. He would sometimes lapse into Russian if he started speaking too quickly from being so excited. Unfortunately, Jack had to admit that he wasn’t super interested in their music. 

However, his traitor brain was very interested in something else.

Jack found he couldn’t stop thinking about Eric Bittle and his honey soaked voice and maple syrup colored eyes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> I haven't quite decided how to go about this entire series yet so I thought I'd post the first chapter and see what kind of response it got before I continued. So, please, don't hesitate to leave comments about what you think (good or bad). 
> 
> The rating of this may change as I go. They are rock stars after all. Relatively wholesome ones, mind you, but still rock stars. 
> 
> The title comes from (as all of my titles always do because I'm shit at titles) the Alter Bridge song, "My Champion". Good song. I recommend checking it out if that's your style.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I figured I'd post this before I have to disappear for the next week and a half to complete a midterm and get some core thesis research done. Grad school, you know? It's a killer.

Eric “Bitty” Bittle was used to meeting famous people. And many of those famous people were often also very attractive. Bitty was also constantly surrounded by attractive men, for goodness sakes. Dex, Holster, and Chowder were all very handsome, though not his type in the slightest.

Jack Zimmermann however, well, that was a whole different story. 

It made his current situation feel like one of those ridiculous romantic comedies that he and Holster liked to watch all the time. Except without all of the romance and just a heaping cup of awkwardness. 

“Oh my Lord, Lardo,” Bitty exhaled as they climbed aboard the bus that would return them to the venue. “Did you see that man?”

Lardo, the Baffled Kings manager extraordinaire, smirked. “Sure did, Bits.”

“He was so tall. And so. . . solid. His ass is so much better in real life. You know I still have a copy of his ESPN Body Issue? It was just so good. Soooo good.”

“Don’t need to hear about your porn stash, Bitty.”

“Oh, hush,” he blushed. The bus jolted forward and Bitty groaned and then flopped face down onto the couch. “He didn’t recognize me. That never happens.”

“Bitty. Bro. Little brother. I heard all of what you heard. I was like two feet away,” she reminded him. He could hear the smirk. No. He could _feel_ the smirk. 

Bitty rolled over and covered his eyes with his arm. “Do you think he’ll come tonight? I couldn’t figure out if he was actually mad about us being there or just really uncomfortable.”

Lardo hoisted his feet up and slipped to sit on the couch beside him before replacing Bitty’s feet on her lap. “I’d put money on uncomfortable. He stared at you a lot and not in an angry “I want to fuck this dude up” kind of way, but in an attracted “I want to fuck this dude” kind of way.” She patted his shins supportively.

“Don’t play with my heart like that, Lards,” he groaned. 

She patted his shins again. “Wouldn’t ever dream of it. Do you want to talk about his ass again?”

Bitty laughed but his heart picked up speed a little. 

_Jack Zimmermann._

Oh, the boys were going to be so mad that he’d met _the_ Jack Zimmermann and Alexei Mashkov. It was their own fault that they had missed out though. Bitty had invited them to come to the rink but Holster was now indefinitely banned from ice activities by Lardo because of what they were now referring to as “The Birkholtz is an Idiot Incident” in Denver a couple of weeks ago. Chowder’d stayed behind so he could Skype with his girlfriend who was currently training in California. Dex declined so he could go for a nice solitary run to relax. So Bitty had gone to the rink alone. Not that he minded. He loved his boys but he had to admit, it was nice to have some alone time away from them. They’d been together daily for the past three months. 

They almost hadn’t found a place where Bitty could skate. Most were booked or closed. But God bless Lardo and her ability to make and use connections. One quick call to Georgia Martin, the Falconers GM, and Bitty was in. Georgia was more than willing to share the rink that the Falconers used for practice with Bitty. Since the team was out of town and there weren’t any amateur games or events, it was totally available. 

Until the team clearly got back early and wanted some ice time. 

Bitty was a former college hockey player. He knew all about Jack Zimmermann. Dropped out of the draft, only to return two years later, go late in the first round to the Falconers, become their captain halfway through his first season, and then go on to win three Stanley Cups. Everyone who knew anything about hockey had heard the rumors about the serious, quiet Canadian. It seemed like all those news articles and interviews that Bitty had read and watched were right about Jack Zimmermann working harder than any other player in the league. Even from a stranger’s perspective, Bitty could see that Jack was exhausted, but he'd still looked determined to hit the ice. Bitty and the guys had watched the game last night against the Kings. It had been brutal. In Bitty’s humble opinion, Jack Zimmermann deserved a break but clearly, Jack ZImmermann did not agree. 

_Guess all those articles are right._ Jack Zimmermann was a “hockey robot”. With a glorious ass.

The bus lurched to a stop as they pulled up to the arena where the Baffled Kings were performing and Bitty headed in to see what was going on. Lardo beelined away and rushed off, probably to kill Chad. Or at least maim the poor kid. 

Bitty found the other guys lounging in their dressing room. Well, lounging wasn’t the right word. Holster was the only one lounging. 

Chowder was muttering to himself and frantically restringing his bass. Only Chowder was allowed to string his bass guitar. Any other person touched his baby and he’d lose his mind. Chowder was the sweetest, purest heart out there, but mess with his instrument and he got downright terrifying. 

Though to be fair, none of them liked it when anyone touched their gear without explicit permission. But Chowder had an especially strong superstition about it. 

Holster was laid out on the couch, his feet hanging over the edge of the armrest, watching an episode of Parks and Recreation on his phone. 

Dex was seated next to him, fiddling with the set list like he always did. Dex always wanted the perfect show. He always made it so it would be the perfect show for the city they were in. It was a strange but wonderful gift of his. 

This was how it always was before shows. Except for Chowder. Usually he was on the phone with his girlfriend. Before long, they’d all begin their pre-show rituals. But for now, they’d spend some time with each other and just relax. Well, again, except for Chowder. He looked stressed. 

“Adam Birkholtz. I thought you were supposed to keep Chowder from stressing out. Does he look calm to you?”

Holster looked up and smiled. “Hey, Bits. How was the ice?”

“Don’t you change the subject. I thought you had it under control,” Bitty huffed and glared. 

Dex didn’t look up as he pointed to Holster with an uncapped marker. “He did for a while. He just sat on him until Chad brought Chowder’s bass in here without any strings and then Chowder freaked out and got free.”

“You missed it, Bitty. Oh, man. It was amazing. It was like when a mother lifts a fucking car or some shit to save her trapped child. Chowder just like bench pressed me off of him and then roared, legit fucking roared, at Chad. Chad hauled ass out of here. He’s probably halfway to Canada by now. Chowder’s been restringing his baby ever since.”

Bitty rolled his eyes. “Oh Lord. Well, at least that will make him feel better. I’ll make him a pie after the show.”

“Whoa. What about me?” Holster moved into a seated lounging position. “I thought it was my turn for pie.”

“Well, when Chad puts a foot through one of your drum heads or dents a cymbal, I’ll make you your favorite pie.”

Holster gasped. “Don’t you put that curse on me!”

Dex chuckled and stood. He moved over to the small mini fridge in the corner and pulled out a container which he unceremoniously dropped on Holster’s chest. “Relax, Holster. Bitty made brownies last night. There are still some left.”

“Oh, fuck yeah!” Holster grabbed the biggest brownie he could find and took a bite. “So, Bitty bear, you never answered how the rink was. Was it fucking awesome to skate in a pro training facility?” he asked, his mouth full of chocolate fudge brownie. 

Bitty smiled, suddenly remembering Jack and his embarrassment at not knowing who Bitty was. “It was wonderful. Y’all missed out.”

Chowder mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like, “Should feed him to sharks” as he continued to work, not even looking up. 

Dex however, caught onto Bitty’s tone and he stopped writing and put his pen down. He leaned back and cocked an eyebrow. “We did, huh?”

“I made a couple new friends who are coming to the show tonight.” Bitty didn’t manage to stop the slight flush on his cheeks. 

This caught Holster’s attention. He straightened. “Hot friends? Hot man friends?”

Bitty laughed and Chowder’s head shot up. “Wait. Bitty made hot man friends? When did Bitty make hot man friends? Who?”

“I will have y’all know that we have all been missing out. Jack Zimmermann’s ass is so much better in real life,” Bitty answered, still smiling. Although it was a bit more smug than usual. 

The three men stared at him. 

Chowder gaped slightly. 

Dex glared in that way he did when he was shocked. 

Holster gasped and then screamed. “YOU MET JACK ZIMMERMANN? AND HE’S COMING TO OUR SHOW? OH MY GOD. I NEED TO FIND MY SEXY SHIRT! CHOWDER! WHERE’S MY SEXY SHIRT!” 

Chowder just blinked. 

“Calm down, Holster. Fuck,” Dex snapped before turning back to Bitty. “You seriously met Jack Zimmermann?”

“And Alexei Mashkov.”

Holster squealed and shot off the couch. “Where’s Lardo? I need Lardo! Lardo! I need all new clothes! Nothing I have is hot enough to meet two of the sexiest players in the NHL! Help me, Queen!” He raced from the room. 

Dex shook his head and rolled his eyes before turning back to Bitty. “Did you skate with him?”

“I can’t believe you met Jack Zimmermann!” Chowder looked ready to swoon. It was adorable. 

“I didn’t skate with him. He and Alexei Mashkov were there to practice apparently. They just got back from a roadie.”

Dex whistled. “Damn. That dude needs to learn take a break. It’s kind of cool to know he’s a fan though.”

Chowder bounced. “Yeah! That’s so ‘swawesome! Jack Zimmermann’s a fan!”

Bitty glanced between the two. Dex looked pleased, though he was trying not to show it. His long hair that he used to cover his least favorite part of his face ( _“My ears are the worst, Bitty. Rock stars shouldn't have ears that look this ridiculous.”_ ) was pulled up at the moment so Bitty could see the flush on the tips of the pale, freckled tips of his ears. Dex was a sweet thing. He blushed a lot when he was pleased or happy, even though he tried to maintain a tough guy image. All of those women and men who adored him had no idea how much of a softie their hardcore idol really was. 

And Chowder? Bitty had adopted that pure, sweet summer child almost immediately. His intensity on the ice as a goalie had translated well to stage. On stage, Chowder was powerful and focused. He was cocky and owned his portion of the stage with an immense presence. But off stage? Well. . . 

“Oh my God. Bitty. Wait till I tell Cait that Jack Zimmermann is a fan! Jack Zimmermann! He’s amazing. His goal against the Sharks last month was so gorgeous, even though I was kind of sad it was against the Sharks. But he seems so cool and he’s so good!” Chowder hugged his bass to his body, his long black hair swooshed from side to side as he twisted in excitement. 

“Well, actually, I don’t think he’s ever heard of us.”

Dex frowned and Chowder deflated. 

“But Alexei Mashkov and apparently Kent Parson are big fans.”

That perked both of his boys right back up. Chowder turned to Dex. Dex was trying not to fangirl as hard as Chowder but he was failing a bit. They were both so excited to hear they had famous, NHL playing, fans. 

Lardo stuck her head through the door. “Time for pre-show, boys.”

Bitty nodded. Lardo always gave them an hour or so to get ready. 

Chowder quickly finished restringing his bass and immediately curled up on the couch that Holster had vacated and was asleep within minutes. Bitty had seen that boy sleep in some pretty terrible places. He still shuddered remembering the time that Chowder had slept on a horrendous grey couch in Las Vegas that Bitty was sure was infected with all sort of disease and desolation. Bitty’d been sure Chowder was going to get a rash or something. Even their disgusting green couch in the Haus at Samwell hadn’t been that bad. 

As he and Dex left Chowder to sleep and do their own thing, Bitty could hear Holster belting Les Misérables as he got ready. Sometimes Holster would switch it up and sing other musicals but Les Misérables was the go to. It was the one Bitty heard the most at least. Holster wasn’t the singer but for some reason show tunes calmed Holster right down and put him in the mood for the show. He’d then make sure that the four extra pairs of drum sticks he needed for the show (he broke a lot of sticks) were in the bag that he hung off the side of his kit before he’d pester Bitty until Bitty agreed to make sure Holster’s hair was "on point".

Dex went off to do his thing on his own, in some quiet, hidden corner. Dex was probably the only one of them that actually warmed up like a normal rock star, if there was such a thing. He always sequestered himself in a quiet corner and ran through his vocal warm ups. They’d been a band for six and a half years and Dex still felt shy about warming up in front of the others. They all loved his voice. The fans all _really_ loved his voice. His raspy yet warm tenor made people swoon. Bitty had to admit that he’d been close to swooning the first time he heard Dex sing. And on top of sounding amazing, Dex had range. Four, almost five if he really warmed up and pushed it, octaves. It was stupid how good he was. Yet, he was still embarrassed to warm up in front of the rest of the guys until they warmed up together right before the show.

As for Bitty, well, his warm up for the show had already started. Bitty’s pre-show routine consisted of ice time for a few hours, and then at the venue he’d do some light yoga and stretch for a while, getting limber so he was loose for the next several hours of performing. He liked to move around so he needed to stay loose. All the while, Beyonce played in the background. It was his only true requirement. Without Beyonce, Bitty couldn’t get ready. He needed the Queen or else he would have a shit show. And if he could manage it, he’d often bake a pie or cookies. The crew loved his pre-show routine the best. 

Bitty turned on his pre-show playlist and unrolled his yoga mat and stretched, feeling the warmth in his muscles, relaxing into the soft, thin red mat. 

He really hoped Jack came tonight. Lord knows that Jack Zimmermann hadn’t won any prizes for politeness, but Bitty could not stop thinking about how cute he’d looked when he’d blushed after admitting he didn’t know who Bitty was. Or the way his ice blue eyes, _Oh Lord, those eyes_ , had seemed so sad. But they were so gorgeous. 

_Stop thinking about Jack Zimmermann and his eyes and that body, oh thank you Lord for that body, Eric Bittle! You have a show. Focus._

By the time Bitty was done with his yoga, he didn’t really have time for any baking. He’d been so focused on what Lardo had said about Jack Zimmermann that he’d lost track of time. 

Bitty was putting the finishing touches on his hair when Lardo knocked again. He had opted for a simple outfit in case Jack and Alexei came. He wanted to look good but not like he was trying too hard so he’d pulled on a tight black v-neck t-shirt that would show off his arms well enough as he played. Call him vain but he knew his arms looked good when he was performing. Nothing like the Zimmermann’s arms probably looked like when he. . . 

_Stop!_

Bitty had to take a breath. He was wearing tight black skinny jeans and they weren’t exactly going to hide Bitty’s very specific interest in Jack Zimmermann if he didn’t get it under control. He didn’t need that kind of situation going on while on stage. 

After a few minutes of thinking about burnt pies and Holster’s tendency to clip his toenails at breakfast, Bitty managed to calm himself down enough to meet the others before they took the stage. 

Chowder was clinging to his bass like someone would try to take it away. His long hair had been brushed out and shone in the fluorescent lights. He wore a red t-shirt and tight jeans. T-shirts always showcased his lean, strong arms. Chowder’s tattoos always remained well hidden, unless he went shirtless, which he never did even though Holster was constantly getting him to try it. Chowder never tried very hard on his wardrobe. He always argued that he didn’t need to look that hot since no one ever came to watch him. His girlfriend constantly argued otherwise. The rest of the band too. Chowder had a pretty substantial and rabid following. In fact, Bitty thought half of them were _still_ in mourning from the news of Chowder’s relationship with Caitlin Farmer, a fierce Olympic champion and total sweetheart. And they’d been together for years.

Holster had opted to go sleeveless tonight. He did that sometimes, so he could get, according to him, “the full range of motion”. He had a pair of sticks in hand, twisting and twirling them as he continued humming “One Day More.” Of all of the guys, Holster wore shorts (most often cargo, to Bitty’s dismay) the most. Again, “for full range of motion, my bros. It’s hard to kick the fuck out of the bass if my pants are too tight.” His hair was done in its usual short Mohawk. Honestly, Bitty didn’t know of anyone besides the massive drummer who looked good with that haircut. Actually, sometimes, even Holster couldn’t pull it off. He’d also opted for plain black square studs in his ears for the night. Thankfully, he could pull those off. 

Dex was quiet, as he always was before they went on stage. Out of the three of them, Bitty thought Dex was the least hopeless when it came to fashion. Holster often argued he had plenty of style, it was just wasn't necessary ( _“I’m a drummer, Bitty! No one ever sees me! I could wear a fucking chicken suit and they’d still be staring at you and sexy Dexy!”_ ). It did make sense that Dex was more fashionable as the lead. He was pretty simple most of the time though. He wore a lot of black, because it looked so good with his rich, firey hair. Tonight was no different. He wore a black button down, sleeves rolled up to his elbows showing half of the gorgeous sleeve tattoo on his left arm that Lardo had designed and teasing the unfinished sleeve on his right that he was working on. Paired with tight black jeans and black boots, Dex looked good. His long red hair was brushed and straight. Lardo must have helped him get it that straight. 

“You should have left your hair naturally, Dex,” Bitty said as they wandered to stage. “I like the waves.”

Dex smiled and shrugged, flushing a bit. “I like the way Lardo does it.”

 _That’s fair._ Lardo was pretty magic when it came to making the band look good. 

The band grouped together after Bitty and Dex grabbed their guitars for a moment so Bitty could give them a pep talk where Holster interrupted with “fuck yeahs!” every third word and Chowder got his game face on. Dex would do one last run through of the set list to make sure everyone knew what to expect and ask if anyone had any concerns. No one ever had any. Bitty liked the way Dex lined up set lists. He always produced the best show, even if it was a constant nightmare for their crew. Not that Dex ever went crazy. He usually only moved songs around that didn’t require crazy staging changes. Ones that didn’t need any movement or pyrotechnic changes. So the crew never complained too much. Plus, if it ever was a problem, Dex wouldn’t actually change anything and then Bitty would make a lot of pie to apologize. It made the Baffled Kings relatively well liked by the many different crews and venues they worked with.

With one last breath, Bitty and the others put in their in-ear monitors and walked on stage. They quickly situated themselves. Bitty and Dex locked eyes in the dim darkness before they began the first notes of their opening song and the lights suddenly flared bright, illuminating the band and igniting the crowd. Bitty felt a rush of adrenaline as the crowd screamed. He always did. He sank into it, focusing on the music and the way the crowd cheered and sang along with Dex. 

He was riding the high of an amazing performance when during the second to last song, he happened to look to the side and saw something that made his already racing heart stutter. 

Jack Zimmermann was standing off to the side of the stage watching Bitty with those intense blue eyes. 

And he was smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! The next update will take a little while and I'm sorry about that but it will come. I promise. 
> 
> I'm leaning hard into modeling the band after Alter Bridge. So if you want to look them up, that's about how I imagined the band sounding. But if you disagree, that's cool too.
> 
> Much love again for the kudos, comments, bookmarks, subscriptions, and even just every one who reads. It really does wonders for my anxiety about posting so thank you so much!


	3. Chapter 3

“I’m just gonna say it again, Jacko, but you’re super fucked,” Shitty smirked as the four men waited in a large, clean dressing room for the band to finish. There was a TV broadcasting a live feed of the concert so they could watch. It was the last song of the encore and so the group had been shuffled off to wait for the band in the Baffled Kings shared dressing room. 

Turns out that the backstage of a concert could be a bit tight when there were three decent sized hockey players and a lawyer crammed into the space. Shitty said it felt like a bad joke. 

Jack agreed. 

Snowy and Tater were still singing along, badly, with the singer. They had been all night. 

As for the show? Jack was impressed. The Baffled Kings were actually really good even if they weren’t usually his style. 

And Eric. _Oh_. Well, Jack had always known he had a type. A type that Eric Bittle apparently fit in every way. Smaller than him, blonde, big, gorgeous eyes. And apparently tattoos were a thing he was into now, because Jack couldn’t stop thinking about how good the other man looked with tattoos. 

But it was different to see Eric perform after meeting him at the rink. 

The Eric on stage was nothing like the sweet, sunshine personified guy he’d seen on the ice. On stage he was. . . 

Sex. Pure, unadulterated sex.

That was the best way to describe it. The way he moved, owning the stage as his fingers flew over the strings of his guitar. He was smaller than the other band members but Jack wouldn’t have known that if Shitty wouldn’t have pointed it out. His presence was just that big. 

Jack was mesmerized by the way Eric’s lean arms rippled and flexed through intricate parts of songs, or the way his jeans hugged and showcased his muscular thighs and tight ass. 

Jack stared. How could he not?

Of course, Shitty noticed. 

Snowy and Tater were too busy swooning over the band in general to notice anything else. _Thank God._

“Shut up, Shits,” Jack muttered quietly as the band finished with a flourish to screams and cheers. 

The lead singer thanked the crowd, Eric winked and blew a few kisses, the bassist just smiled and waved, and the drummer dropped to a knee and bowed like he’d just met royalty. The stage lights dimmed as the band left the stage. The crowd still screamed, apparently hoping for one last song or one last glimpse of their idols. 

The feed went black. Snowy and Tater immediately lapsed into conversation about everything that had just happened like they hadn’t just witnessed it. 

Shitty however wasn’t as easily distracted. It was why Shitty was such a good lawyer. Once Shitty was on a topic, especially one he was passionate about, he didn’t let it go. And Jack’s love life (or lack thereof) in any capacity was unfortunately one of those topics. 

“Bro. Eric Bittle checks off every one of your boxes. It’s stupid.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Jack said quietly, fiddling with his fingernails a bit. He wasn’t out. Eric was out and proud. Jack was envious but he was also dismayed by this new information. 

Of course the gorgeous blonde rock star was gay. It made sense because the universe was a real pain in Jack’s ass and could be a real asshole about dangling happiness only to snatch it away, leaving Jack to pick up the pieces.

Shitty cocked an eyebrow but thankfully he didn’t say anything. It was clear they’d be talking about this later though. Probably on the drive home.

Tater and Snowy were chattering about their favorite songs and lyrics when the door burst open and the band quite literally spilled into the room. The drummer almost landed on his face. The bassist was saved by the lead singer grabbing the back of his shirt before he could trip over his other bandmate. 

“HOLY FUCK! IT’S ACTUALLY JACK ZIMMERMANN!” the very large drummer shouted. He turned, caught sight of Snowy and Tater and squeaked, his voice quieting to a shocked whisper. “And Alexei Mashkov.” 

“Oh my God. Andrew Snow. It’s Andrew Snow. Dex. Dex. Oh my God. It’s Andrew Snow! Oh my God,” the bassist gasped and pointed at Snowy. He was bouncing slightly. 

The lead singer, still gripping the back of his friend’s shirt, blinked and stared. “Uh.”

“Good Lord. Y’all are ridiculous. You’d think we’d never met famous people before.” Eric appeared, laughing. His face was flushed, his dark eyes bright. His golden hair was mussed. It had gotten less and less perfect as the show had gone on. At the moment, it looked soft and natural, with a slight curl from the sweat.

_He’s absolutely beautiful._

_Wait. Merde. No. Stop that._

“But Bitty! It’s Jack Zimmermann!” the bigger blonde exclaimed and Jack flinched from the volume. Was everything this guy did loud? _Guess that’s why he’s the drummer._

Eric turned Jack and the others and smiled, his face warm and happy. “I’m glad you could make it. Pleasure to see you again, Tater.”

Tater looked like his every dream had just come true. “Wouldn’t miss it. Very best show!”

“Mr. Zimmermann,” Eric smiled. 

“Jack. Call me Jack,” he managed to say quietly. Eric’s smile grew and damn if that didn’t do something to Jack deep in his gut.

It fell silent for a few seconds before Jack remembered there were still introductions he needed to make. “Oh, um. So, this is my best friend, Shitty Knight.”

Eric’s eyebrows rose. The other band members made similar faces. The lead singer frowned. “That’s really your name? That’s fucking harsh.”

“Old hockey nickname because my name is legit shit. Ha! Inadvertent rhyme.”

Eric stuck out a hand. “Eric Bittle.” 

“Oh, I know,” Shitty smiled as he shook Eric’s hand. “Your first album got me through my last year of law school and my first fuck fest of a job.”

“And uh, well, you’ve met Tater. But um, yeah, this is Alexei Mashkov and Andrew Snow. They play with me.”

“Oh, honey,” Eric said, “we know.” 

“We played in the NCAA,” the drummer admitted. “Samwell.”

Shitty beamed. Jack looked at the four musicians. They fit the rock star mold more than the athlete mold. “Really? I mean, I guess you did mention playing hockey in college. It’s surprising. I mean. . .”

Thankfully, Shitty stepped in and saved Jack as he was beginning to flounder. “What my beloved brother from another mother is trying to say is you guys don’t really look like the type who played NCAA hockey.”

The drummer shrugged, unbothered by Jack’s clear skepticism. “Don’t worry, bro. We get that a lot actually. We don’t blame you.”

“You all play hockey?” Tater asked, awestruck. 

Eric smiled. “Yep.” He gestured to each man. “Holster and Dex played defense.” The drummer and lead singer inclined their heads. “Chowder was our goalie.” The bassist beamed as Snowy muttered a soft “fuck yeah” with a smile of his own. “And I played right wing. I don’t look it, but I’m pretty fast.”

Holster, the drummer, snorted. “Pretty fast. Fuck, Bitty. To this day, you’re the fastest fucking player I’ve ever seen.”

Chowder, the bassist, nodded. “Yeah, Bitty. You were the fastest in the NCAA.”

“No one could fucking touch you when you turned it up,” said the lead singer, Dex. 

Bitty. They called him Bitty. He needed to remember that and ask him what he preferred Jack call him, Eric or Bitty. 

Meanwhile, Jack had so many other questions. They all played at a Division One school. If Eric was as fast as they all said, he could have gone pro easily. Speed was always an asset in the NHL. Teams would have been all over him. 

Not that he wasn’t an amazing performer, because oh God, he really was. There was a specific part of Jack’s anatomy that was still a little more excited than it should be. But Eric could have easily played in the NHL. Jack would have been able to meet him sooner. 

He was about to mention this but Snowy spoke first.

“Can I take a picture with you?” Snowy burst out, startling most of the room. The band laughed, dispersing any leftover awkward first meeting tension and they all settled into much more relaxed and easy conversations. 

The short woman, the band’s manager, that Jack met earlier at the rink, Lardo, appeared at one point with pizza and a cooler of drinks. She was on the phone discussing something important, or at least, Jack assumed it was important based on how tight her jaw was. 

Eric, Jack, and Dex reached for water. Tater, Snowy, and Chowder each grabbed a Gatorade. Holster and Shitty grabbed a beer. 

Ten minutes later, Lardo hung up the phone and immediately her dark eyes zeroed in on a specific member of the band. “Holster, you’ve got an interview in the morning. You will not be doing it half fucked up. Got it?” she warned as the big drummer grabbed another beer. He’d already downed three in rapid succession.

He attempted to wave her off. “Don’t worry, Lards. I can handle it.”

She cocked one perfect eyebrow and held his gaze, never wavering. Holster slowly lowered the beer back to the table. “Good. Behave or I’ll let Chad load your gear.”

Holster’s eyes narrowed and he glared. “You wouldn’t dare.”

Lardo didn’t have to say a word. She just cocked her eyebrow again and the big man gasped and pushed all of the beers away from him as if to push away the temptation. He grabbed a water and sank a little in his seat. “That’s cold, Lards. Stone fucking cold.”

She smirked ever so slightly. 

Jack couldn’t help the small smile on his face at the display. Wow. Lardo caught his eye, inclined her head a bit and offered a small smile back that seemed to say, _“Oh, this is nothing. I’m used to these idiots.”_

Jack had to bite down to stop the laugh threatening to bubble out at the sight of his best friend out of the corner of his eye on his other side. 

Shitty was looking at Lardo like she was the greatest thing he’d ever seen. It was a bit like Jack imagined he’d looked watching Eric perform all night. He hurried to stand, wobbled slightly from the blood rush from his head or the beer, maybe both, and then moved to introduce himself. “Shitty Knight.”

“Shitty.” She said this like it was a statement of fact. She took his hand and shook once. “Larissa Duan. Call me Lardo.”

Out in the hall there was a loud crash and Holster’s eyes widened in fear. 

Lardo’s eyes narrowed. “I swear to whatever fucking deity you may or may not worship,” her voice rose in volume on each word as she tore open the door, “if you broke another fucking amp, Chad, I’m going to gut you with a dull spoon!”

The door slammed behind her and Shitty turned back to Jack, his green eyes glazed and bright. “Oh my God. She’s amazing.”

Eric laughed. “Lardo was our manager in college. I think she likes taking care of unruly idiot men.”

“Hey!” Chowder contested, his mouth full of pizza. “I’m not an idiot.”

Dex smirked. “Sure. That’s why we spent 10 hours getting that shark tattoo on your back done. Because you’re _not_ an idiot and you _didn’t_ get a butterfly tattoo on your lower back.”

Tater and Snowy snorted and Eric rolled his eyes, clearly remembering the whole incident.

Chowder flushed and looked down. “I thought it would look cooler than it did,” he mumbled.

Eric laughed again. “Oh, honey. A butterfly on your lower back was never going to look cool. No. The shark looks so much better.”

“What about you?” Jack asked, his voice kind of rough from lack of use. He hadn’t said much for a while, content to listen. 

Eric started a bit, probably surprised he’d actually spoken, before his look changed to confusion. “What about me, what?”

“Your tattoos. What do you have on your arm?” He gestured to Eric sleeve. He’d been trying to study them all night but Eric liked to talk with his hands. So Jack couldn’t really get a good look. “It just all looks really nice and cool.”

_Good God, man. Nice? Cool? Jesus. This is why I don’t like to talk to people and why I don’t go out._

Thankfully, by some sheer miracle, Eric didn’t look the least put out by Jack’s awkward question. Instead he pushed the short sleeve of his t-shirt up to show the full sleeve of tattoos on his arm. There was indeed a pie and a hockey puck but it was part of a larger intricate design that had sort of a fairy tale theme. It was beautiful. 

_Just like him._

_Oh, for— just—_

_Merde._

“I also have peach blossoms on my chest,” he admitted, slightly flushed. 

“Wow. That’s really,” Jack hesitated and Eric looked nervous, “amazing,” he finally managed. _Smooth. Well. . .smoother, at least._

Eric’s responding smile full of sunshine was worth any awkward feelings Jack might be feeling though. “What about you, Jack? Any ink?”

He shook his head. “No. I never saw or thought of a design I really wanted.”

“We try to make him get Stanley Cup on ass after first win,” Tater interrupted. “It not work.”

Snowy snorted. “For Jack anyways.”

“Oh my God,” Holster sat straight. “One of the Falconers has a tattoo of the Stanley Cup on their ass?”

The three players looked at each other. Their lips were sealed outside of the locker room, but inside? Well, Poots would never live down that choice. 

The band burst out laughing. “If I guess, will you tell me?” Holster asked.

Tater shook his head. “Sorry. Is team secret. We all take to our grave.”

Holster sighed, clearly disappointed. “I guess that’s fair. That’s still fucking amazing. I mean, it’s kind of a terrible choice though. It’s the best fucking trophy in sports but it’s definitely not a good design for an ass tattoo,” Holster said. 

Eric looked at him. “You ain’t got a lot of room to talk about terrible ass tattoos, Holster.”

The drummer flushed and looked down. 

Tater and Snowy jumped on that, begging to know what Holster had gotten tattooed on his backside. 

After a while, the small party sort of disbanded without any fanfare. Chowder begged off to call his girlfriend in California. “She’ll be so excited to hear I met Jack Zimmermann!”

Dex wanted to shower and then sleep. “Sorry guys, I need to clean up and make some tea so my throat isn’t totally wrecked tomorrow.” 

Holster and Tater and Snowy were deep in conversation about which romantic comedy movie was the best. “Bro. I will fight you until the end of fucking time. 27 Dresses is the fucking worst.”

Shitty had vanished and Jack would have been worried except he was likely tailing Lardo like a lovesick puppy. And Lardo could more than handle Shitty Knight.

Everyone else was occupied, which left Jack and Eric alone, more or less. The romcom trio was still going at it in the corner. 

Jack chewed on his bottom lip, suddenly nervous to be left alone with Eric. “So um, that was a really good show.”

“Thank you.”

“I liked the song you did about never giving up, even when it hurts.”

Eric’s smile was soft. “Oh, thank you. I’ll have to tell Dex you said that.”

“Dex?”

Eric nodded. “He writes everything. Well, almost everything. I actually helped with that one.”

“Oh, wow. You’re amazing.”

Eric looked down, a blush spreading across his cheeks. Jack thought it was cute. 

_Just give up. You are losing this battle._

“So, Jack Zimmermann. The man who works harder than God,” Bitty started. 

Jack rubbed the back of his neck embarrassed. “Uh, not quite.”

“Says the guy who came to the rink to practice after getting off a plane from a roadie,” Eric said, rolling his eyes. “Anyways, that’s not what I wanted to talk about. I want to talk about you. What kind of things does the resident hockey god like to do in his spare time?”

Talk about Jack? That wasn’t a good idea. “Um, not a lot. I’m kind of a boring guy.” And that was the truth. Jack didn’t really do anything besides hockey.

Eric clearly didn’t believe him. His blinked and made a face. “I highly doubt that.”

“No, really. I uh, play hockey, do stuff with the team's charities.” He paused, thinking. “Uh, I guess I like photography. I take my camera on roadies a lot. Or when I go for a morning run.”

Eric perked up. “Is that why your Instagram pictures are always amazing? I spent hours scrolling through them all last year when I first found your Instagram.” He flushed suddenly and clamped a hand over his mouth as Jack smiled. “Oh Lord,” he groaned, embarrassed. “Let’s ignore that I just admitted to stalking you on social media.”

 _Not a chance._ “Instagram is the only social media thing I do. I don’t really know how most of the rest of them work. I usually just do what George wants. She wants me to do Twitter. But I don’t really get hashtags so I don’t want to do that.”

Eric blinked and then giggled. Giggled. Jack wondered what he would have to do to make Eric make that sound again. It was perfect. 

“Oh, you sweet summer child. We’re almost the same age, aren’t we? How do you not know how to use hashtags?”

Jack shrugged. “I don’t know. I always thought it was the number sign. I don’t get it."

Eric laughed and put a soft, warm hand on Jack’s arm. “Honey. That is both the saddest and sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Jack flushed a bit. 

“So, what about you Eric, what do you like to do besides music and figure skate?”

Eric smiled. “I like to bake. I make a pretty darn good pie.”

Holster scoffed from the corner. “Pretty darn good? Ha! More like the most amazing fucking pie ever, so good it’s like a spiritual experience. Or the best orgasm you've ever had but in your mouth.”

Eric grimaced. “Holster. How many times do I have to tell you this? Don’t compare my pie to orgasms. Especially in connection with the mouth. Lord.”

Jack had to actually shake his head to get THAT image out of his head. “Um. Pie?” That explained the tattoo though. 

Eric stood and offered his hand. Jack hesitated. But Eric smiled in a reassuring way. “Come on. I didn’t get to bake before the show and I’m too keyed up to sleep yet. I’ll make you a pie.”

Jack took his hand and again, marveled in how warm it was. It was soft too. There were callouses and rough spots on the fingers, but Jack had callouses too. Eric’s hand was so much softer than his own though. He marveled slightly at the feeling. 

He didn’t let go of Eric’s hand as he followed the smaller man out, pointedly ignoring the winks he got from Snowy and Tater. 

An hour later, Jack was sitting at a small table on the band’s tour bus, eating the most delicious dessert he’d ever had in his life, while a gorgeous blonde man with stunning brown eyes regaled him with stories and smiles. 

Shitty was right. 

He was so fucked.

But the more Eric talked, the more they touched, Jack found himself caring less about that. In fact, for the first time in a very long time, _that_ sounded perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the delay. It's been. . . rough. My posting schedule is going to be very sporadic these next few weeks. Long story short, one of my best friends is dying and I need to come to terms with that while managing grad school. Writing has always been a bit of an outlet for me which is why I'm not going to give up on this story. I can't promise that there won't be massive gaps in posting though. I'm sorry and I hope you don't hate me too much for that.
> 
> Thank you all for reading. Thank you for the comments, the kudos, everything. I appreciate it so very much.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive me for the wait. I offer this fluffy chapter as penance. 
> 
> Also, I didn't change the rating but things do get a bit more steamy (not explicit or really obviously mature, hence the same rating) at the end. If you want to avoid the steamy bits, skip from "But that means I have a little more than an hour to kill. Any ideas?" to "He wanted this." But like I said, I didn't change the rating because it's not too intense. But if you disagree, and you think I should change the rating, please let me know. I am notoriously bad at gauging the right rating for things.

Eric was hot.

He grumbled slightly as he shifted in search of the relief that cold sheets would offer and then immediately froze when he nudged a rock. 

_Nope._

_Not a rock._

_That’s Jack Zimmermann’s naked chest._ His glorious, muscular chest. Jack was still sleeping, that magnificent chest moving up and down in slow, deep rhythmic breaths. The smattering of black hair was begging to be touched and played with. 

Bitty almost reached out to touch when he was reminded of what had woken him in the first place.

 _Lord above. He’s like a portable furnace._ Bitty couldn’t help but wonder how nice it’d be to have Jack’s body heat on those wretchedly cold NYC nights. Nearly ten years in New England and Bitty had still not acclimated. 

But at the moment, Bitty was sweating and overheated. He needed relief. In more ways than one, he mused with a smirk at where Jack Zimmermann’s hands had found themselves. One of Jack’s large hands rested on Eric’s hip lightly, only inches away from his aching morning wood. The other was curled under Jack’s own pillow. Bitty managed to lift the hand on his hip and scoot out of bed without Jack so much as snuffling. He was clearly exhausted, which was unsurprising and adorably frustrating. 

Bitty smiled softly at the sleeping athlete. His large muscular body curled small, his knees bent. He was still wearing his socks and just a pair of boxer briefs, and _Good Lord_ , Bitty was having a hard time not enjoying that view. 

Bitty’d never agreed more quickly to going home with someone than he had with Jack Zimmermann. Jack had invited him back to his place after admitting he didn’t want the night to end on a tour bus. It wasn’t even a question in Bitty’s mind. The other options were the hotel that the band was staying at or the tour bus, and the tour bus was immediately vetoed by Bitty. Jack had laughed that sweet, deep, soft chuckle of his when Bitty said, “Nope. Sorry, Mr. Zimmermann, we are not staying on this tour bus. I have seen and heard things on this bus that I will not have myself associating with a night with you. My hotel?” Lord knew how many times he’d dealt with interrupting bandmates or crew. Though to this day, the worst thing Bitty had ever had the misfortune of stumbling in on was his sweet son Chowder getting a blowjob from his girlfriend who'd surprised him at a show in Dallas. Bitty would never be the same. Even the many sex noises from Holster hadn’t scarred him as heavily as that. Thank the Lord above that Dex was a good boy. Or at least not a raging ball of sexual energy. And quiet. He was so blessedly quiet when it came to sexual conquests. 

Bitty had been mildly surprised when Jack responded with, “My place is pretty close. And it’s cleaner than a hotel.” Honestly, it was probably pretty embarrassing how quickly Bitty went through the pros and cons of this option. It really came down to one thing, and that was the thought that his past and future selves would kill him if he turned down a night with Jack Zimmermann. It was for that small little Southern gay who’d never thought that he’d have a gorgeous man want him that he agreed to go home with Jack. That and that stunning ass. Oh, and also because Bitty was a kinder bandmate than the other three, so it hadn’t been a real tough decision before he’d jumped at the offer to come back home with Jack. 

Literally. 

Bitty had quickly learned to his immense delight that Jack could easily hold him up against a wall with Bitty’s legs wrapped around his thick, solid waist. 

It had been going so well, SO well, until Bitty had been forced to call a time out so he could go take a quick shower to prep and wash off some of the concert grime. 

He’d returned to the bedroom to a drowsy Jack Zimmermann (which Bitty now argued was one of the damn sweetest things he’d ever seen), stripped down to his boxer briefs and socks, bless him. They’d made out a little more, unhurried and lazily, before Bitty noticed that Jack’s gorgeous blue eyes were having a hard time opening whenever they’d break apart. 

“You know, sweetheart, this may be the first time I’ve ever put someone to sleep with my kissing,” Bitty said, pulling back a bit. He was thinking now was a good time for him to go, despite how desperately he wanted to stay with this boy. Tonight clearly wasn’t a good time for any amorous pursuits. Jack was exhausted.

Jack had grumbled, a low, rough, very tired noise that shouldn’t have made Bitty want as much as it did. “Don’t want to sleep. Want to keep kissing you.”

Eric smiled, kissing Jack softly on the cheek. _This sweet boy._ “How about we continue this after you get some sleep, gorgeous?” Bitty prepared to scoot away when Jack caught him by the hip, his grip stronger than Bitty expected from him at the moment. 

“Don’t go,” he said, his blue eyes suddenly clear and pleading. “Stay, please.”

Bitty should have insisted he needed to go, kissed Jack one more time, left his number, and then slipped away. That’s what a strong man would have done. 

And. . . 

Well. . . 

Bitty never admitted he was very strong. Especially when it came to cute boys. So he’d given in. Those sweet blue eyes drifted closed as Bitty nestled against the best chest he’d ever had the pleasure of touching in his life. Jack had fallen asleep quickly, leaving Bitty to admire the soft smile still on his lips. Bitty fell asleep pretty soon after, pressing a soft kiss against Jack’s collarbone. 

With one last look at the pretty man asleep before him, Bitty grabbed the first bit of clothing he could find, which happened to be Jack’s t-shirt, and tiptoed from the room. The fabric brushing the tops of his thighs. It was soft and warm. Bitty momentarily considered stealing it before reminding himself that he and Jack Zimmermann were not at that stage. 

Eric made his way to the kitchen, grabbing his phone from his jacket pocket first, intent on making breakfast, only to find a magnificent kitchen that was clearly neglected, the poor thing. Jack had acres of counter space, beautiful cabinets, _two ovens? dear God, it’s Xanadu._ And, it looked absolutely pristine. There weren’t any dishes or decorations on the counters except for what appeared to be a stack of neglected mail. Bitty searched for basic ingredients for pancakes, struggling to find everything. _Oh my God. Does this boy ever cook anything?_ Luckily, after some digging, Bitty was able to find everything, but it was clear that some of the ingredients had been forgotten for a while. Everything was still good, nothing had expired, but nearly everything was unopened. Except the items in the fridge, and the only things in Jack’s fridge were eggs, a carton of milk ( _still okay, thank God_ ) and protein shakes. 

Bitty shook his head in disgust as he set to work. 

_This boy needs some food love. I’m going to make sure he gets it._

Eric was halfway through making breakfast when his phone rang, loud and clear, echoing in the empty kitchen. Lardo’s smirking face lit up the screen. He scrambled to answer it before it woke Jack. 

“Hey, Lards.”

“Eric Richard Bittle. You are supposed to tell your manager when you’re going home with the sex god NHL star so she doesn’t end up panicking when she can’t find her guitarist anywhere. I thought you’d been kidnapped,” she huffed. He could feel the glare.

He couldn’t help but laugh though. “Kidnapped, Lards? Really? Me?”

She clicked her tongue. “You’re fucking adorable, Bits. And you have some very avid fans. It’s not a stretch.”

“Okay, fine. Sorry. I wasn’t kidnapped. I’m fine.”

Lardo huffed again, clearly unimpressed. “Well, I damn well know that now. Don’t pull that shit again. I don’t care how good the sex is, you fucking text me when you’re done.”

“Sorry,” he apologized again. “Why didn’t you call? Or text? My phone was in my jacket but I have the ringer on loud. I would have heard it.”

“Oh, yes. Why didn’t I think of that?” she deadpanned. Bitty put her on speaker and checked to see. . . Oh wait. Yep. There they were.

LD: Where are you? We need to head back to the hotel soon. 

LD: Holster is getting whiny. You know how he gets when he’s tired. We need to get back before this gets worse. 

LD: Seriously. Bitty. Where the fuck are you?

LD: Eric Bittle. Answer me right now. 

LD: I swear to God and the Providence police department that if you don’t fucking call me in the next five fucking minutes, I’m calling SWAT to find your ass. 

LD: If you’re dead, I’m going to fucking kill you.

LD: Dex says you went home with Zimmermann. Fine. Be safe. Use condoms. I’ll kick your ass in the morning.

WP: Sorry, Bitty. Hope Lardo didn’t kill the mood.

CC: Lardo and Dex say I shouldn’t bother you because you deserve this. . .

CC: But when you get this, will you see if Jack will sign a shirt to send to Cait??? She was really excited that I got to meet him!! She’s a big fan!

AB: FUCK YEAH, ERIC BITTLE! YOU ENJOY THAT ASS! CLIMB HIM LIKE A FUCKING TREE!

“Um, yeah. I didn’t get those last night. Sorry.”

Lardo sighed. “It’s fine. You were having hot, athletic sex with a man who inspires wet dreams the world over. Just, fucking text me next time, will you?”

Bitty blushed and before he could refute Lardo’s statement, she spoke again.

“We’re headed back to New York in a few hours. We’ll meet you at the hotel. I’ll get your shit together if you aren’t here by 10 am. But you should try to be here by 10 am,” she finished, seemingly bored but Bitty knew better. “Should try to be here by 10 am” was Lardo’s way of saying, “Be back by 10 am or I’ll kick your ass” without having to say those exact words. 

Eric checked the clock. It was 7:30 am. He figured he’d be back by then, no problem. He’d probably finish the pancakes and then leave if Jack still wasn’t awake.

Lardo and Bitty talked for a few minutes more. Thankfully, Lardo didn’t press for details. He knew the boys would as soon as he got back to the hotel, but Lardo wasn’t like that. She always waited for them to come to her. It was why Eric loved her. She was the best manager and friend he could ask for. They didn’t chat long though and a few minutes later, Eric disconnected the phone and turned back to the stove so he could finish the last pancake. 

“You made breakfast.”

Jack’s rough, sleep thick accented voice startled Bitty and he jumped, dropping the last pancake on the floor. Jack smiled, his eyes still heavy and drooping. Or maybe that was just how they always were. _Sad eyes,_ Bitty mused. That seemed like something Bitty wouldn’t mind doing. . .making those sad blue eyes light up with happiness like he saw now. Bitty definitely wouldn’t mind doing that on a regular basis. 

Bitty swore his heart skipped a beat as he studied the other man. Jack’s hair, already an adorable mess anyways, was mussed and sticking up in odd directions. His eyes were soft and dull, still clouded with that early morning haze. He hadn’t bothered to pull on a shirt, just some worn loose shorts.

_Thank you, Jesus._

“What can I do?” Jack offered, sliding in behind Bitty.

Bitty fought the urge to lean back as he smiled. “Nothing. Just sit right over there and look pretty.”

Jack chuckled and sat at his table as a faint blush spread on his cheeks. “I think I can do that.”

_This boy. My little Southern gay heart can’t handle this sweet man._

“Syrup?”

“Uh,” Jack stood and wandered over, reaching into a cupboard a little out of Bitty’s reach. He pulled out a bottle. “This work?”

“Good Lord. You have actual maple syrup? How Canadian are you?”

“The most Canadian. No one more than me, eh?”

Bitty laughed and Jack smiled a bit more, his cheeks flushing even more. _Be still my heart._

Jack offered to make coffee so Bitty finished clean up and plated the pancakes while Jack made them each a cup. 

It was oddly domestic and honestly, Bitty wasn’t about to complain. It felt so right with Jack. Maybe because the other man was so soft and quiet, allowing Bitty’s natural exuberance to expand without complaint. Or maybe it was because Jack Zimmermann was possibly the most adorably awkward, gorgeous man he’d ever met. It had taken a little bit of work last night, but Bitty had managed to get Jack to talk to him without so much hesitation. And Bitty found, that even in the four hours they’d talked, Jack was interesting and smart, with a dry humor and a penchant for listening that was just. . . ideal. 

Bitty was in real trouble. 

A voice in the back of his mind, a voice that sounded a whole lot like Holster for some reason, reminded Bitty of something else.

Jack was not out. Pro sports were homophobic beyond belief. And even a three time Stanley Cup winner like Jack Zimmermann had to stay quietly hidden away in the closet for fear of the violence and hate he would encounter. 

Bitty had lived so much of his life in the closet. He would never go back.

But he was getting ahead of himself. It wasn’t like they were going anywhere. Right? And why did the idea that this was all he got with Jack hurt so much?

“What are you doing today?” Jack asked in that soft, accented voice of his that made Bitty’s insides melt. He was such a weak man. 

He sighed, remembering Lardo’s call and the to-do list she’d laid out. “Headed home to New York. We have a video shoot tomorrow. And I think I’m doing interviews. Lardo has it all planned, I just go where she tells me to.”

Jack’s face fell slightly. “Oh.”

“Why?” _Why? Does he want me to stay? Is he disappointed? Oh God. What if he’s angry I didn’t sleep with him last night?_

Jack picked at his pancakes. “I uh, I was thinking I could show you around Providence. We could have a real date. I promise I wouldn’t fall asleep this time.”

Bitty’s smile was bright and his relief so obvious as he laughed. “Oh, darling. I enjoyed what we did last night. We were both tired. Okay, you more than me,” he amended when Jack shot him a look. “But that sounds amazing. I’d like that. I’m free on Thursday. How about I drive back?”

 _Oh my Lord. Eric Bittle. You just. . . oh God. Please say yes, Jack Zimmermann. Please say yes._

Jack’s smile returned, so big and pure that Bitty almost kissed him right then. “Yeah. Thursday. I have a game. I can get you tickets?”

“You won’t be too tired after?” Bitty asked, realizing halfway through his question how suggestive that sounded. He hadn’t meant it that way. Well, not entirely. 

He shook his head, and flushed again. _Oh Lord, this boy. So cute._ “Uh, no. I mean, I usually have a lot of energy I need to work off after games. And uh, this is going to be a rough one probably. It’s getting kind of close to the end of the season so teams are really fighting for playoff spots. We’re in a decent position but the Penguins aren’t. Plus, these games are always really awkward and stressful because of my dad, not that it’s his fault. The media and fans like to make a really big deal out of it all though. It’ll be a hard game but I’d really like to have you there.” Jack met Eric’s eyes and then grinned sheepishly. “Sorry. You probably don’t really care.”

 _I’d really like to have you there._ Yeah. He was a goner. Bitty leaned over and kissed Jack’s cheek, earning another blush from the hockey player. “I would love to watch you play in person.”

They finished breakfast, Jack telling Eric all about his team and how ridiculous they were. Eric sharing similar stories about his time at Samwell. 

“Don’t tell, uh,” Jack paused searching, “Holster. But Poots. He’s the one with the Stanley Cup tattoo on his ass and it’s not. . . small.”

Bitty laughed and Jack smiled. Bitty was really starting to love Jack’s smiles. There were just so many of them. 

“When do you have to be back?” Jack asked.

Bitty checked his phone. It was barely 8:30 am. “I have to be to the hotel at 10 am,” he pouted. 

Jack’s smile dimmed. 

“But that means I have a little more than an hour to kill. Any ideas?” He leaned forward and lightly kissed the other man. Jack’s eyes fluttered closed and he leaned into the kiss, deepening it. 

_He tastes like sugar and maple and oh, this is perfect. I want this._

Jack pulled back, moving his lips to Bitty’s jaw with a light touch. “I think I have a few ideas,” he murmured, his breath on Bitty’s skin making the younger man shiver. Jack stood, gripped Bitty around the waist and hoisted him up. Bitty immediately wrapped his legs around Jack just like he had last night as Jack made his way to the living room couch. Bitty giggled when Jack dropped him onto the cushions with a soft thump. Jack hovered over him, his hands roaming over Bitty, plucking slightly at the hem of his shirt. 

“I like you in my shirt.”

Bitty grabbed Jack and pulled him down, laughing as Jack’s hands wandered, tickling him before his hands grew bolder and firmer and Bitty’s laughs turned to moans.

“But I think I like you more out of it.”

Bitty sighed as Jack tugged off the borrowed t-shirt and went to work, wrecking Bitty with every touch. Those blue eyes were focused, dilated in desire, and still so beautiful, watching and seeing. Jack was so attentive and laser focused on making Bitty feel so, so good. Jack whispered his name, so soft and awed as Bitty cried out, Jack’s own name torn from him in a stuttering breath. 

Through the dimming haze of pleasure, Bitty could barely think. But he knew one thing. 

He wanted this.

He wanted the blinding passion, the soft chirps, the dry humor. He wanted the kindness and warmth and the feeling of home. 

He wanted all of it so much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the kind comments and the support. I can't even begin to explain what that means to me at the moment. Thank you so much. You're all amazing and wonderful, thank you for reading and sticking with this story. 
> 
> I'm so sorry it took me so long to get this out, everyone. It's been hell for the past month and I just had the hardest time working on this fic. I have the story mapped out, the plot is laid out and ready, I just need to get some of the smaller details down and consistent. And then all that's left is to write it all out. 
> 
> Feel free to leave me any comments, concerns, questions, complaints, etc. I love to hear from you. And thank you all for the kudos and views/reads. It's ALL appreciated.


	5. Chapter 5

“Zimboni! Stop flirting with cute boyfriend! We have game to play,” Tater shouted, startling Jack out of his thoughts. He looked up, somewhat ashamed. The Russian’s face was split by one of his usual large, bright smiles. Snowy was smirking, his arms crossed.

There was a rule. No phones in the locker room this close to a game. But Jack couldn’t help but peek. Bitty had sent him a selfie, his hair styled just right despite his “pesky cowlicks.” He was wearing Jack’s jersey and a pair of jeans that hugged his perfect, small, round ass just right. 

It. . . did things to Jack. He couldn’t help it. 

He shifted uncomfortably. He was wearing tight gear. The guys would easily notice his reaction. 

“It’s been two fucking months, captain,” Poots groaned from across the room where he was seated beside Tater. “Aren’t you past the honeymoon stage yet?”

Tater leaned over and in his usual loud whisper said, “Zimboni have to make up for all those years without sex.”

The team all laughed as Jack rolled his eyes. _Well, he’s not wrong. . ._

Tater smirked and pulled Poots into an awkward side hug. “You just angry, little Poots, because you lost bet.”

 _Ah, yes. The bet._ The bet was a pool between his teammates (and a few of the staff) on how long it would take Jack to go “110% Zimmermann and say I love you.” Poots had been optimistic that it would only take the captain a few weeks. Jack however, did have some self-control, despite what his teammates thought. 

“You know,” Snowy said, contemplating from his corner stall, “I’m actually surprised he’s lasted this long.”

Tater scoffed. “Snowy, you make bet it would take two months. You saying you made a bad bet on purpose?”

Snowy shrugged. “More like by the time the pool got to me, all the more realistic dates were taken, you fuckers.”

“Well, if you didn’t spend so much time with the trainer, you could have had first pick,” Poots taunted. 

Snowy threw him an unimpressed look. “You can come at me for all the time I spend in the training room when you stop spending all your free time in the merchandise shop with Lara.”

Poots turned bright red as the team jeered and laughed. Jack smiled. His phone buzzed again. 

EB: Can’t wait to see you tonight. Good luck, gorgeous! 

Jack smiled again and ignored the whistles and shouts as he typed a quick response.

JZ: Me either. Tickets are at the box office. See you soon.

“Zimboni going to owe so much money if he keeps dating Eric,” Tater laughed. Snowy wrote “Cap owes 250 for texting his lover!” on the whiteboard.

With another unimpressed shake of his head, Jack turned off his phone. “Alright. I’ll pay it tomorrow. Time to focus.”

Almost instantly the mood changed and the light hearted banter switched to pre-game intensity. They were playing the Aces tonight, which explained Alexei’s higher than normal enthusiasm. Having his boyfriend so close always perked the Russian right up. After the game, they were supposed to go to dinner so Jack could formally introduce Eric to Kent, but honestly, if Alexei and Kent didn’t sneak off for a session of marathon sex immediately following the final horn, Jack would be really surprised. 

Jack set to work on his pre-game routine. It was a comfort. He didn’t like to deviate. Not for particularly superstitious reasons, but because it was a balm for his anxiety to follow specific steps. Despite years in the NHL, Jack’s anxiety would occasionally make an appearance. It was something he dealt with, something he lived with, and something he handled. It was part of him and it always would be. It had taken a lot of work to accept that. But he’d made it. And he was okay.

Bitty had reacted well to this personal revelation. 

They’d been lying in Jack’s bed one morning about a month after that first night. Bitty’s hand stroked Jack’s hair, softly tugging and scraping in that way that made Jack pliable and boneless. Well, even more so. Bitty had already managed that earlier. 

It was warm, it was comfortable. It was safe. So, Jack took a chance and opened up to his new boyfriend. 

“I have anxiety. Most days I have it under control but I still have bad days. It used to be so much worse when I was younger. But I’ve gotten better at recognizing when stuff isn’t right. But I still have trouble. I just wanted you to know. Just in case.”

Bitty, to his credit, didn’t even stop playing in Jack’s hair. Instead, he made a soft humming noise and leaned over to kiss Jack’s temple. “Thank you for trusting me. If there is anything I can ever do to help, you just let me know, darling. Anything.” He punctuated his sentence with a soft, long kiss. “Doesn’t change how I feel about you at all, mister, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Jack had been a bit worried about that. 

“If anything, it explains our first meeting. Lardo was right. You weren’t angry, just unsure and anxious, right?”

Jack nodded. “I was uncomfortable because I’d just gotten off the plane and I was exhausted but I wanted to skate to clear my head and then you were there, and you’re so beautiful.”

Bitty blushed and rolled his eyes. “Lord, this boy,” he said to the ceiling.

“I was nervous but also kind of frustrated that you were on my ice. Except you’re so beautiful on the ice and in person and I just didn’t know what to say,” Jack finished, feeling a bit awkward, his cheeks rosy with embarrassment at his admission.

“You sweet man,” Bitty whispered and curled into Jack, anchoring him. God, it felt so good. Jack would have been fine to stay like that all morning but Bitty moved out of his grasp suddenly, his eyes sparkling. He managed to loosely pin Jack, straddling him with a smile. “Well, I definitely wouldn’t have said no to being called beautiful, especially by you. Definitely don’t mind it now either.”

Jack smirked and with a quick move, gripped Bitty and then flipped him on to his back, hovering over him. “You’re beautiful.” He kissed the smaller man softly on the cheek. “You’re beautiful.” Jack kissed his other cheek. “You’re so beautiful.” He kissed Bitty’s nose, earning a giggle and a sigh. 

They hadn’t managed to get out of bed that day. 

Jack smiled a bit at the memory before he steeled his face back into his typical game face. He needed to focus. He’d see Eric soon. But first, he had a game to win. 

Despite Jack’s slight distraction, the rest of the team seemed as focused as usual. Several guys disappeared into the hall to play a little soccer. Most of the guys would join at one point or another, switching places. Thankfully, they were home tonight so they'd be in less trouble if someone broke anything. Alexei was still in trouble for breaking a panel of lights at Madison Square Gardens a few weeks ago. It was the third time he’d broken lights in that particular arena. Other players were slowly dressing, stretching, and chatting. Snowy had his headphones on now, his eyes closed, his foot tapping the beat to his pre-game playlist which was a confusing mix of genres ranging between Eric’s band, the Baffled Kings, to other artists like Sia, Lady Gaga, David Bowie, Johnny Cash, and Tupac. He’d be quiet for the rest of the pre-game. 

Jack wasn’t very happy that they were starting Snowy tonight. He’d have preferred if they’d started the other goalie, Ben “Nessie” Harkness, tonight. Snowy was tired. True, Ben was shaky at the moment. He’d had a rough February. And with only a few games left before the end of the regular season, they needed both goalies to be on top of their game. Which is why Jack wanted him in the net. The Falconers had already clinched their playoff spot. This could be a good chance to build Nessie’s confidence. Snowy needed a break.

Jack was trying to figure out how he could go about getting Nessie in goal without pissing Snowy off, when he heard a quiet, nervous voice muttering, “It’s fine. It’ll be fine." 

The rookie that sat in the stall right next to Jack on the left, Vinnie “Nosey” Nolan looked nervous. His hands were trembling slightly. 

Jack nudged him with his shoulder. “You alright, kid?” Nosey had been playing in the league all season and he still looked sick before every game, though tonight it seemed especially intense. Jack knew the kid also had anxiety. He’d taken the younger player under his wing at the very beginning ( _“You’re like a fucking mother bird, cap!” “Zimboni such good momma!”_ ).

Nosey nodded. “Yeah. Just feeling kind of nervous to be playing the home town team, you know?”

Jack did know. It was how he felt whenever he skated against the Penguins or Canadiens, his father’s former teams. There was a strange fear in his gut when he played them. Like he was playing against a legacy. His own legacy.

“It’s rough. I still struggle with playing my dad’s old teams,” Jack admitted. “But you just have to go out and play for the team you’re on. That’s your home team now. Plus, how many other Aces fans can say they’ve checked Kent Parson.”

Nosey blushed a bit and looked down. “He’s too fast. I can’t catch him. When we played them in Vegas, I never even got near him.”

Jack chuckled. “Yeah, he’s fast but that was months ago. You’ve gotten better and smarter. As long as you play your game, you’ll be fine. He’ll been on a line with Banks and Carter tonight. Just keep an eye on Banks. Kenny’s been favoring him a bit the past few weeks.”

Nosey nodded. He knew this. They’d all watched the tape. But it seemed to calm the kid down to talk about it again.

“Plus, you’ve got Tater. And you’ve seen Tater against Kent,” Jack said with a slight smirk. An earlier game against the Aces this season had turned into what Snowy called “the weirdest foreplay I’ve ever fucking seen,” when Alexei and Kent seemed to be actively trying to cause problems for each other. Alexei got called for five penalties. Five. And even Kent was in the box three times. 

And then just twenty minutes after the game, Jack had come around the corner just as Alexei and Kent had exited a supply closet, disheveled and flushed. He’d sighed, rolled his eyes, and simply said, “You two are ridiculous. The bus leaves in ten, Tater.”

“Yes, no worries, little rookie,” Tater smiled at Nosey from the other side of the locker room. “We are more than enough to handle my Kenny.” Alexei added a wink at the end and there were several groans.

“Try to keep it in your fucking pants this time, Tater.”

“For a couple who is trying to keep their shit secret, you guys sure publicly eye fuck each other more than you should.”

“Boo, true love!”

“Just do me a favor, Tater,” Jack sighed as he held Tater’s excited gaze. “Don’t get five penalties this time. Let’s set a better goal. Maybe just two this time.”

Alexei beamed. “Two it is!”

The team finished getting ready, skated a quick warmup before returning to the locker room briefly for some last minute tactics and prep. At this point, the rest of the guys had their game faces on. Snowy had the “dead eyes” look that intimidated everyone, opponents and teammates alike. Alexei’s excitement had turned to intensity. Poots kept popping his neck. Nosey was breathing slowly in and out, measuring his breathing against Jack’s like they always did. 

Jack offered his typical pre-game speech and then they hit the ice. 

Eric hadn’t been in the stands during warm ups but he was there now. Jack found him instantly. Jack’s eyes always went to Bitty. Always. It was like Eric Bittle was the sun and Jack couldn’t but help but be dragged into his beautiful orbit. 

Bitty smacked the boards and tossed a wink as Jack skated past. He was sitting next to Lardo, who looked rather unimpressed. He and Bitty had decided that in order to keep people from gossiping too much about what their relationship was, Lardo (or Shitty if Lardo was unavailable) would come to home games with Bitty. 

Lardo hadn’t really liked it. Honestly, Jack also hated that they had to go to such lengths. But Lardo still did it. It helped that she and Shitty had become “best bros” because then the trip wasn’t completely wasted for her.

Jack gave Eric one last smile before he skated towards the center circle for the face-off against Kent. Kent winked and Jack just rolled his eyes. The puck dropped and Jack’s brain shut out everything except hockey for the next two and half hours. It was a relatively laid back game. Well, as laid back as hockey can get. True to his word, Alexei got two penalties. Both on Kent. Both for tripping. Tater’d found it exceptionally hilarious. 

But in the end, it was the Falconers who emerged victorious, 3-2, thanks to Jack’s game winner with just six minutes left in regulation. 

And then the game was over and the team was bumping Snowy’s mask with their own helmets before skating off the ice. Jack’s mind immediately shifted away from hockey to the brown-eyed ray of sunshine that would be waiting for him. Jack was named the first star of the game for his two assists and one goal, so he gave a quick interview, all the while thinking about his boyfriend waiting for him.

He just wanted to see Eric. To touch him. They hadn’t seen each other in person in two weeks and Jack eager to get his hands on the musician. He was halfway down the hall when his way was barred by the head athletic trainer. 

“Before you get changed, I want to check that shoulder,” Justin Oluransi (the team called him Ransom) said. “Come on.”

Jack swore internally. He’d taken a hard fall in the third that had troubled an old injury in his shoulder a bit. But he didn’t have time for this. His gorgeous, kind, sexy boyfriend was waiting and damn if he wasn’t antsy. But he was also a professional, so he sighed and followed Ransom. 

“Sorry, bro,” Ransom shrugged. “I know you have better plans, but we just gotta make sure your shoulder isn’t messed up. Can’t lose the captain with playoffs coming, you know.”

“I know.”

Ransom smiled. His dark eyes danced a bit as he watched Jack hoist himself on to the table, almost sliding off in his haste to get this done. “Easy, bro. Don’t want to break your ass in your rush to get out of here.”

Jack felt a bit sheepish so he calmed and let Ransom work. Justin Oluransi was a good trainer. He was the team’s favorite trainer actually. A former hockey player himself, Ransom, as Tater had dubbed him, had clicked with the guys after only a few meetings. Jack still chuckled a bit at the memory of when Ransom had met Tater.

Ransom frowned a bit, noticing a bruise on Jack’s shoulder. But Jack's mobility was good and there didn’t seem to actually be anything wrong aside from the bruise and Jack assured Ransom that he wasn’t lying about his pain level, so Ransom let him go, with a warning to “call if anything changes”.

Jack took off his skates so he could run to the locker room. Eric wasn’t outside which meant he’d likely been dragged inside by Tater or Snowy. Jack pushed open the door and immediately smiled, because Eric was right there, sitting in his stall, talking to Nosey about music. Nosey was a huge fan. He looked star struck despite having met Eric before. Honestly, Jack just thought that was probably his natural face at this point. 

Eric lit up when Jack entered. It made Jack want to pull him into his arms and kiss him senseless. 

“Zimboni! Bitty brought cookies!” Tater held up a large Tupperware container that was already half empty. “Bitty, if I didn’t already have one true love, I would marry you.”

“Fuck no, Tates. I’ll fight you for him,” Snowy snapped.

The team laughed as Snowy and Tater quickly devolved into an argument about who would be a better husband to Eric. 

“Tater,” Jack spoke, cutting through the argument. Tater turned, a cookie half hanging out of his mouth, “don’t let Nate see those.” Nate, the team nutritionist, hated when Eric visited. 

There was a scramble to hide the cookies. 

“Did I miss press?” Jack asked as moved to stand in front of Bitty. Jack had already taken off his jersey and pads and undershirt for Ransom’s inspection. He was wearing a loose Falconers shirt and his pants. He still needed to change but he didn’t want Bitty to leave so he was hoping the press had already come and gone. 

Bitty smiled and stood, careful not to touch him or get too close. “Nope,” Eric said, with a pop on the p. “Just wanted to tell you hi. You looked good on the ice, baby,” he said quietly so that no one else heard. 

The guys all knew. Jack was out to the team and the general manager, Georgia Martin. So, management and his guys were behind him, which he knew and he appreciated. But that didn’t mean that he and Eric still didn’t have to take some serious precautions.

“Thanks, bud. Wait for me outside?” Jack offered. “Don’t go too far because I’m not entirely sure that Kenny won’t try and kidnap you. He loves you.”

Eric smiled. “Hmm. You know me. I can’t say no to a gorgeous NHL star. But I don’t think he’s my type. I prefer tall, dark, and handsome.”

Tater perked up and threw a sock at Snowy. “See, Snowy? Eric prefers men like me.”

“Fuck you, Tater. I’m tall, dark, and handsome too,” Snowy retaliated with a sock of his own.

Eric laughed that beautiful musical laugh of his. Jack smiled down. “Well, it’s not too hard to be tall next to you, bud.”

Eric’s eyes narrowed. “Excuse me, Mr. Zimmermann. I am an average height, you moose.”

Jack winked and whispered. “You’re not average, Bits. You’re perfect.” 

Eric flushed. 

Georgia called for the guys to make themselves decent for the press and Jack and Eric took a measured step away from each other. Jack hated the flash of pain he saw in Eric’s beautiful brown eyes. Georgia gave the guys about a minute to pull on clothes before she walked in. She smiled at Eric apologetically. “Sorry, Eric. We’ve got to do interviews.”

Eric just beamed at Georgia. “Not a problem, George.” He turned back to Jack briefly. “Meet you outside.” Eric reached out and brushed a light hand over Jack’s, running his fingers along the inside of Jack’s wrist. 

“Can’t wait.”

Eric left and Snowy groaned. “Dammit! I was hoping I’d win tonight.”

Jack didn’t say anything. Snowy was totally going to win the pool tonight if Jack had anything to say about it. But first, he had to survive the press and a date with Alexei and Kent.

Thankfully, the postgame interviews were easy and smooth and Jack and Alexei were able to get out of there relatively quickly, hoping Kent was still tied up in his own interviews. 

Unfortunately, Kent had beat them out. 

And he was currently full on fanboying. 

“Did you really totally make up the solo on Violent Ends?” Kent asked, like he was meeting a god.

Eric laughed. “Well, sort of. I was messing around a bit in the studio. Dex and I both liked it so we kept it.”

Kent looked awestruck. “That’s amazing. What’s your favorite album then? Mine is your second. Fear of Falling.”

“I don’t have a favorite album actually. I have favorite bits from each.”

“Do you have a favorite song?” Kent asked, taking a step closer. He had that look in his eyes. The look that meant he was about to make it weird. It was the same look he’d had right before he asked Britney Spears to be his best friend forever. 

“Kent. Leave my boyfriend alone please.”

Kent and Eric startled and turned towards their approaching boyfriends.

Kent flushed before flipping Jack off. “Oh, fuck you, Zimms. I know you don’t appreciate the gift you have been given in being able to date this man.”

Eric laughed and moved towards Jack. Kent and Alexei quickly embraced, Jack and Eric did as well. But all four were very aware of the public place. Kent and Alexei didn’t touch, but they stood close enough they could brush against each other occasionally.

“Ready?” Jack asked. The group split, heading out to a quiet restaurant for dinner in two cars. Jack insisted on driving earlier so Eric had caught a cab to the rink. Lardo had already left and headed to Shitty’s for. . . whatever those two did together. Jack knew it wasn't sex because Shitty would have told him. Knowing Shitty, it was probably Mario Kart and scotch. 

As soon as they were in the car, Jack immediately reached over and grabbed Eric’s hand, lacing their fingers together as he put his car in gear to follow behind Alexei and Kent. 

“I missed you,” Jack said, pressing several light kisses to Eric’s knuckles.

“Lord, Jack. Keep that up and we aren’t going to make it to dinner.”

“I can’t wait until I have you all to myself in two weeks,” Jack murmured, his eyes on the road, but his mouth still ghosting over Eric’s skin. He rubbed his thumb over Eric’s soft wrist, making Eric’s breath hitch. In two weeks, he’d have a break before the post season started. Eric was coming to spend several days with him. To say Jack was excited was a huge understatement. 

“Baby. If you don’t stop, I’m going to do something that will make us very late for dinner.”

Jack smirked and pressed one last kiss to Eric’s hand. “I’m sorry.”

Eric laughed. “No, you’re not. But that’s okay.” Eric leaned across the console a bit. “I missed you too.”

The group was seated in a quiet, private corner at the restaurant which was perfect. They were genuinely enjoying each other’s company. Kent had only proposed to Eric twice, asked to join the band once, and promised to introduce Eric to his BFF Britney if Eric ever came to Vegas, which started an argument about who was better, Beyonce or Britney. 

There was a moment when Jack worried Bitty would kill Kent in the defense of his Queen, but thankfully Tater defused that argument by saying that he preferred Adele, and the group agreed that Adele was pretty amazing, and the argument was abandoned. But really, Jack was happy. He was having fun. 

Until dessert. 

Alexei and Kent had hooked their ankles under the table. Eric was able to rest his left hand on Jack’s thigh, softly brushing his knee, without fear of anyone seeing. The group was calm and quiet, just enjoying each other as they finished their food. 

Jack should have known it wasn’t going to last. 

“Um,” a soft, nervous voice interrupted making the table pause and turn. Eric’s hand moved quickly and unseen. Kent leaned back, moving away from Alexei. “Are you Eric Bittle?” the teenager asked. He looked terrified but excited.

Eric smiled, his eyes soft. “I am.”

“Oh my God. Can I get an autograph or a picture? I love the Baffled Kings. You’re so amazing.”

“Of course,” Eric agreed sincerely. He wasn’t put out at all. He loved his fans. He stood, took a selfie with the kid and signed the young man’s phone case since it was all the poor kid had. 

The teenager thanked Eric profusely and Eric moved to sit back down before another fan approached and soon, Eric had a small crowd. A few hockey fans joined, but mostly, the attention was all on Eric. And usually, that wouldn’t bother Jack. In fact, he loved that Eric was so loved. 

What he didn’t love was the final fan, a particularly enterprising man. 

“So, uh, you’re single right?” 

Eric just smiled and offered a noncommittal “hmm” as his answer.

The man took this as a yes. “Are you in town long? I work at an amazing coffee shop near here and I’d love to make you something sweet. I’m very good at what I do.”

Jack’s jaw tensed. But he didn’t move. He couldn’t. He hated so much that he couldn’t. 

“If you’re free tonight, you should stop by. I think we could have a lot of fun,” the man pressed when Eric didn’t respond.

“I’m sorry,” Eric said, all politeness and hospitality, “but I’m with friends. No thanks.”

The man seemed surprised when he noticed the other three sitting at the table. But he didn’t recognize any of them. At least, he didn’t seem to, so he turned immediately back to Bitty. “Well, here’s my number,” the man offered, clearly ignoring Eric’s dismissal, “in case you change your mind. You’re just really hot in person.”

The little bastard winked, actually winked. Jack twitched, hating every second. He couldn’t do anything. He couldn’t slide his arm around Bitty’s waist and pull him close and kiss him. Couldn’t show this man, or any of these people, how much he loved Eric Bittle. He clenched his fists and glared at the man because it was all he could do. 

“Sorry. But I’m not interested,” Eric said, still smiling. But his dark eyes were a little harder now. “Excuse me. I’d like to get back to my friends. Have a good night.”

The man sputtered a bit but he left without any trouble so Jack counted it as a win. 

Jack reached over under the table as soon as Bitty sat and grabbed his hand. Alexei and Kent were both frowning as well. It was a sombre reminder that they couldn’t let their guards down, that they couldn’t enjoy a simple dinner with their significant others, and it weighed heavily on the group. 

Kent and Eric did manage to start up another conversation, bring a bit of laughter back into the end of the meal, but Jack just kept replaying what happened. Replaying the words from the man. It ate at Jack how Eric couldn’t admit to these people that he was dating Jack. 

He hated it but he didn’t know what else to do. 

_It’s my fault that we have to hide. It’s my fault._

Eric squeezed his hand, sensing his mood. “I think we ought to take this party home,” Bitty said. The other couple agreed. 

Jack paid the check and they all said their goodbyes. Kent traded numbers with Bitty before he and Alexei headed off towards Alexei’s place. 

Jack was quiet on the ride home, thinking about everything he had to do in public with Eric. He thought about how he had to drop his hand when they got out of the car. How they had to walk into the building together but still far enough apart that it wasn’t suspicious. How they couldn’t even hold hands in the elevator. It all had to appear platonic. He couldn’t touch him, smile at him, love him at all. It hurt. 

But as soon as the door to Jack’s apartment closed that all changed. He pushed Bitty up against the door, lifting his boyfriend clean off the ground as he worked his way down Eric’s neck with his mouth.

“Lord, Jack. I’ve been waiting for this all night.”

Jack growled his agreement into Eric’s neck. 

Eric’s hands found Jack’s hair, and he stroked the dark hair. “You seem a little stressed, honey. What’s going on in that beautiful head of yours?”

Of course his boyfriend had noticed. Jack hesitated and pulled away, he didn’t lower Bitty back to the ground though. Instead, he carried him to the couch and they sat. Eric straddled him and continued to run his hands through Jack’s hair, massaging his scalp with light pressure and soft scrapes from his finger nails to sooth him. “You alright, darling?”

Jack looked up at the man above him, looked at this beautiful dark eyed being who deserved so much. “I love you.”

Eric’s eyes widened slightly as his hands tightened in Jack’s hair. “Jack,” he breathed. 

“I love you so much,” Jack rasped and pulled Eric closer, burying his face in Eric’s stomach. 

Bitty laughed, but there was a wetness to the tone. “Oh my Lord. I love you. I love you,” he said, whispering into Jack’s hair. 

Jack pulled back. “I’m so sorry I can’t show you off like you deserve. I hated that I couldn’t say anything to that man at dinner.”

Eric sat back, lowering himself so he could kiss Jack’s nose. “I know. But that’s okay. Right now, this is okay. We’ll be able to do that one day, right?”

It was meant to be soothing, but Jack felt a sliver of fear. _One day._ Was he really going to be able to be out in the open with Eric one day? He wasn’t actually sure and that terrified him.

Eric sensed his panic. He leaned down and kissed him, soft at first, drawing Jack back to him with soft lips. “It’s okay, honey. I love you. One day soon we’ll be able to show each other off proudly. And if you don’t think I will gladly step in and shut down those women who get way too handsy with you, then you are wrong.”

Jack laughed and smiled. “Okay. Okay, Bits. I love you.”

“That’s good enough for now, baby. Now, come on,” Eric stood. “I’ve been half hard all damn night. I have very specific plans for tonight and that includes that blue tie of yours.” Eric reached out and let his hand brush the blue silk. 

Jack stood so fast that he wobbled. Eric squeaked as Jack scooped him up, hoisting him over his shoulder as he made his way to the bedroom. 

“I love you, Bits,” he said again.

“Love you too, baby,” Eric replied with a pat to Jack’s ass. 

_That’s good enough._

Jack buried the sudden wave of anxiety as he thought about the rest of Eric’s statement, choosing to focus on the feeling of his boyfriend’s hands on his body instead.

_For now._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some more fluff! Jack being a good captain! Goofy teammates, cute boyfriends!
> 
> I'd be lying if I said it wasn't going to get real angsty soon. Sorry. But don't worry too much. It'll be angst with a happy ending. 
> 
> Thanks again for reading! You're all wonderful and honestly, I cannot begin to express how happy each hit, kudos, comment, or bookmark makes me. Thank you all so much. 
> 
> Sorry about the crazy posting schedule. I wish I could promise a more settled one but at the moment, that's unlikely. Thank you for your patience.


	6. Author Update

Sorry about this, everyone. But this is not an update. I wanted to write this to let you know what’s going on. 

I’m taking a break. I’m not sure how long I’ll be gone. I just know that I have to take a step back at the moment or I’m going to end up saying “fuck this” and deleting all of my works on this site and any and all Check Please related Tumblrs, bookmarks, etc. 

I’m not going to lie. I’m angry. It’s been a rough couple of months and this week was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

I checked my Tumblr after months of inactivity this morning (I was already in a very low mood for other reasons), and do you know what I had? Twelve anon hate messages. I backed off of Tumblr originally a while ago for the same reason. My only consolation is that at least this time it was only 12 messages and not 23. 

You know, I really love hockey. I do. I got into this fandom because my best friend said to me one day, “Hey. You love hockey and you love to bake. Try this amazing web comic.” I was even watching my NHL team at the exact moment when she suggested it. It was all rather serendipitous. And I love Check Please. I do. Because it’s not about hockey. Not really. It’s about found families, being who you want to be, as well as some other amazing themes. Hockey is just the backdrop for it all, really. 

So yeah, I love Check Please because it combines so much of what I love. 

But right now, I don’t really want to be a part of it at all. 

I’m tired of being vilified for not absolutely loving specific teams and players. I’m tired of being called names that I’m not going to repeat here because I support a team that is “the most fucking evil and disgusting team in the NHL.” That’s a verbatim quote, everyone. Taken right from an anon hate. I could go on. I could post every insult I’ve had thrown at me recently. I could discuss how I’ve had messages telling me to kill myself, telling me that I would be better off dead, or threatening me with violence. I could talk about how I’m afraid to bring up anything hockey related with some fans of Check Please because I don’t want to be treated like a pariah. And I definitely don’t want fans to lash out at me. Again. Because fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice? Well, I guess this is on me. I don’t want there to be a third instance. 

So, I’m stepping back. I’m sorry. 

To all of you who have commented, thank you. I appreciate you and I love reading your comments. They always brightened my day.

To everyone who left kudos, thank you. I appreciate you and I am so grateful that you loved what you read. 

To everyone who just stumbled on my fics, thank you. I appreciate you and I never thought anything I wrote would garner any attention. Definitely never thought there would be thousands of hits on any of my works.

But it’s for you who are reading what I share that I’m taking a break. I refuse to rage quit, despite how badly I may want to right now. Because I know I’d likely regret it. Instead, I need to back off. I need to pull away from this fandom a bit before a few very hateful people ruin not only one of my favorite stories, but one of my absolute favorite sports. 

I’m sorry. Thank you all. I love you for sticking with this piece. Take care of yourselves. Be kind. 

I hope to be back soon.


End file.
